


hand to heart

by dames_for_jamesbarnes



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arc Reactor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 09:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dames_for_jamesbarnes/pseuds/dames_for_jamesbarnes
Summary: bucky is there when the reactor is taken out of tony’s chest.(angst, hurt/comfort; tw: hospital scenes, mentions of torture)





	hand to heart

bucky is there when the reactor is taken out of tony’s chest.

it happens in stages – the initial appointment with the doctor who’s going to do the procedure, the follow-up meetings where the doc gives the details of how exactly it’s going to go down, the twenty-four hour period where tony isn’t allowed to eat or drink a damn thing and starts to spiral, the fourteen-hour procedure – and bucky is there for all of it. holds tony’s hand when the surgeon starts mentioning the scary stuff, like how delicate the operation is even with something as useful as the reactor holding all the shrapnel in the same spot. it’s weeks and months of preparation, even more time just trying to come to the damn decision, and bucky is there, like a shadow, making sure tony’s supported every step of the way.

of course, tony needs the support. he needs to have someone there for him, and sure steve and potts and rhodey all want to be there, and are there sometimes, but bucky _is_ there. and he sits through the meetings. pulls himself together. pushes away the panic that comes from bright and white and medical.

the day of, tony’s hands are wringing, his stomach growling and his eyes half closing after not having a single drop of caffeine for a world-record day and a half. he’s snappy, nervous, the smile he shows the nurses one that the outside world usually gets. but when the gown goes on, and he gets the first needle prick of an i.v., bucky presses a kiss to his fingers and lays them against tony’s forehead.

“i won’t let anything happen in there. anything that shouldn’t happen, at least,” he teases, and tony takes it with a better smile, one that’s small but real.

with a shrug, the restless patient glances toward the door, as if expecting the doctor to burst in and do the procedure then and there. “i mean, the longer i’m in there, the more you get peace and quiet,” he jokes back.

“hey.” bucky stops him, lifting his metal hand to keep the words at bay. it’s weak. they both know he lives off tony’s energy, the way he laughs, the way he talks, the way he lights up the damn room. steve calls it love or something. bucky’s prone to call it that, too. “you’re out any longer than a day, and i’m suing the whole damn place. you got the lawyers, i’ll make it happen.”

that gets a laugh, and together they wait, hands clasped together until tony falls asleep and he’s wheeled out, followed close behind by the sound of bucky’s boots as he goes to wait in the theater.

* * *

one moment, it’s there, shining and bright and blue. the next, it’s gone.

not _gone_ gone, it’s still there, still bright, but the shine comes from the metal of its encasing and not the soft glow of life.

the docs, all of them crowded around tony’s body like he’s just another ~~experiment~~ ~~weapon~~ patient, pull back the curtain to showcase the new scar where a hole used to be. a reconstructed sternum, rearrangement of the superior portion of the ribcage, and the removal of twenty-five pieces of shrapnel later it’s done, the souvenirs all in a convenient to-go cup. some of them are so small that bucky can’t even see them with the best sniper eyes in the business.

bucky goes and throws up a couple of times, wipes his mouth with a determined set of his jaw, and starts waiting all over again.

during the procedure, he’s all nerves and anxiety and dread, sam and steve bringing some food, natasha clothes for them both. after, the waiting is expectant. for tony to wake up. to see the thing there, on the bedside table, apart from him. a whole different kind of awful, but a little easier because the docs say he’s fine, that he’s gonna be okay and awake any minute.

and bucky should be happy, because tony’s free. the arc reactor did its job, kept tony alive, and now it’s gone and tony doesn’t have to cling to it. doesn’t have a crutch. no more fear.

so why isn’t he?

there’s no way to pinpoint it, but bucky’s sure it’s because tony’s not awake yet. because he still doesn’t look like he should, out cold with tubes coming in and out of him in a way that gives buck the shivers. like he’s dead. or close to gone. the sight of him without blue coming from his chest makes it worse, more vivid, and he has to close his eyes tight to get that thought out and away from him

a few more hours pass. bucky writes a bit in the journal doctor hall gave him, a way to get out thoughts before they fester, and puts it away so he can stare at tony some more. worries. writes some more. rests a bit, eyes closed but not really sleeping before he hears the telltale hitch of breath.

“buck?”

with a soft whimper tony winces, the stuff that’s supposed to keep away pain starting to fade because he was out for a bit longer than expected.

“hey, doll.” he reaches for tony’s hand again, squeezes it. “good job out there.”

“shouldn’… you be thankin’ the guy who done it?” he’s slurring like he did at Christmas, the spiked nog having been a bit too much. he looks like he’s gonna pass out again, too, his eyes are already closing. but bucky keeps talking.

“nah, you were the star. the picture-perfect patient.”

“mmhmm?”

“yeah, baby, you did swell. you look great, too. they did a good… good job.”

why does the word hitch? struggle to get out? it’s not a lie, it’s _not_. but tony doesn’t even notice the internal conflict because he’s got medication in every part of him, and bucky’s left alone in that hospital room once again, wondering why there’s a rush of bile every time he sees the reactor on the table.

* * *

“tony, for the last time, you can’t do something like that for at least another three weeks. operating heavy machinery, remember? big no.”

it’s the result of a rough few weeks. tony’s more restless than bucky’s ever seen him, basically bouncing off the walls after bedrest in a hospital room, then bedrest at home, then limited activity, then… slightly less limited activity. especially considering that it’s an operation that’s never been attempted, one that will probably never be replicated. there’s no precedent, so everything goes slow. they have the timeline posted on their bedroom wall, ticking off the days until he’s full health, back to himself.

limited activity. limited food. limited sex. everything has a limit, for the man without any. he complains about it all, and bucky lets him. it sucks, that’s for fucking sure.

“how am i supposed to get out there as iron man when right now the suits i have all run on arc reactor power? no arc reactor, remember?” tony’s voice is accusing, as if bucky could somehow forget.

“i know, i was there,” he sighs out, before pulling the genius toward him with the grip of a firm hand, lets his arms wrap around him so he can start pushing kisses against dark curly hair, gets a whiff of shampoo that cost more than him and steve’s rent at one point. “why don’t we go and watch a movie or something, huh?”

“we’ve been watching movies for a month,” tony mutters, but the fact that it’s not at the top of his lungs is a good sign. another one is the way he melts at the contact, sinks into bucky’s arms like they’re good pillows. “movies, tv, reruns, new shit. only so much you can do when you’re not allowed to go forth into the outside world.”

right.

suddenly, something swims to the surface of bucky’s mind, something on their timeline that they had been counting down to.

the arms around tony loosen a bit, but before the genius can protest bucky’s hand start to slide down his sides, run over his hips, under the waistband of sweatpants that he’s about ninety percent sure aren’t tony’s at all.

“what are you doing? remember? no sex until i’m up and at it,” tony hisses out, but the sound bucky lets out is low, a little laugh. tony starts to pull away a little, spins to face the soldier with a look that asks why he would do a thing like that when they both know it’s not an option.

“a month.”

“what?”

“a _month_ , tones. today.”

understanding dawns over tony’s face, slow and steady. suddenly, there’s a burst of color to his cheeks, a small noise leaving him, and a fierce nod, a “god, yes” before they’re against each other, bucky’s hands gentle but his lips fierce, needy, so goddamn ready.

tony has no such restraint, until something he does, probably the way his shoulders move, pulls a noise from him that’s definitely not of pleasure. bucky freezes and his eyes are wide and fearful, but tony just lets out a sigh of frustration.

“i still can’t do much,” he explains, reaching up a hand to press over the tank top that has no cutout in the front.

but bucky just hums, leans forward and takes tony in his arms once more. his lips are gentle against a sharp jaw, breath ghosting over a perfect neck.

“let me handle this, sweetheart,” he whispers, and the feeling of tony’s body shivering against his is like the best drug. “you don’t have to move an inch.”

* * *

it doesn’t take long to sate them. a month away from any kind (or most kinds) of sexual contact does that, and bucky takes pride in squeezing out two orgasms from tony, pulling him apart bit by bit with his mouth, his fingers. seeing tony fall apart does it for him, and so he’s taken care of a couple times, too, and puts the sight into the back of his mind for later when he’s feeling reminiscent. bucky can’t give tony what he really wants, what he was begging for, not for another two weeks, but this is enough, is so much more than they had, and by the end of it tony’s out like a light, breaths long and deep.

it’s good, but… something keeps bucky’s eyes open. keeps him tossing, turning, unable to sit still. tony’s dead to the world, but bucky… bucky stays awake for a while. stares up at the ceiling, listens to tony breathe, his metal hand tucked behind his neck, his other hand resting on his stomach.

the room is dark, pitch black now. no stars or moon outside really to push shine through their window, and the curtains are drawn tight to prevent any unwanted eyes, so. no light, no shine, no… no blue.

suddenly the bile claws its way up his throat again, and he has to force it back down, close his eyes. the cold metal of his hand sends a shiver down his spine, and he opens them again to get rid of visions of medical facilities and masked agents forcing shit into his body.

tony’s free now. free of his vice. it sits on one of his stands in his shop, not a place of honor, but not discarded either. it’s just there and when bucky goes down there to get another tablet or something tony can tinker with, it mocks him. the steel winks at him and his arm answers back.

it’s so dark in the fucking room.

with a soft huff, he pushes himself out of their bed for the third time that week, lets tony sleep, watches him to make sure his breaths are still steady before pushing out the door and closing it without a sound. the hall lights rise to half power, and bucky winces before pushing forward to the front room. the walls are lined with windows and he can stare at lights all around the city with a view like this.

the same thoughts had been riding him for a month now, ever since tony came back from the procedure with the circular scar that he now carried with him. it’s a reminder, more than anything, and once the pain faded it would be the only thing left. sure, there’d be reactor power everywhere, in the tower, the compound, the city… but it wouldn’t be in tony anymore.

his vision blurs a bit.

and that’s what the genius wanted. wanted to be free of it, right? and bucky had supported him, because he loved the asshole and wanted what was best for him and this was what was best. he was proud and he still loved tony, that would never change, right?

_so why can’t i sleep next to him anymore?_

gripping his head, bucky falls backwards into the couch. the light of outside cuts across him, and he realizes he’s still naked. flesh and bone, except…

his hands clench into fists as he pulls them in front of his face, lets his eyes scan over them.

and then it clicks, clicks with the soft sound of whirring that makes bucky’s jaw tight, as his metal fist compacts itself into a weapon of mass destruction posing as a hand.

tony’s metal parts were bright. soft. lit up the room. bucky remembers hours spent just staring at it, when the genius was asleep after laughing and talking for hours before those moments to himself. they were good. they kept tony alive.

bucky’s metal parts made him walk off balance. made him wince when he stretched wrong, ached as the metal inside him rubbed against nerves and muscles in his shoulder. invaded every part of him. they had killed and murdered and had ruined lives.

tony used his reactor for so much… so much good it hurt. had changed the world with it, created sustainable energy that would last lifetimes, had saved himself with it.

when bucky closed his eyes, he still saw the damn red star on the shoulder. a regime that wiped away the weak and strong alike. took apart power and built it up again in the image of themselves.

he blinks. feels something fall down his cheeks. when he wipes it away, it’s with the hand that he’s cursed with, and he feels a tug as the interlocking parts tug at his skin.

when he stands again, he’s shaky, and he makes sure there’s no crying when he goes back to tony. can’t show what’s filling his head, and he’s not sure he’s able to hold a pen long enough to get them onto paper. when he slides in next to tony again, his metal arm is buried in the sheets. his normal, good, better fingers reach for tony’s hand before he stops, feels a strangled noise leave him, and curls up on his own side of the bed.

he doesn’t sleep. can’t. gets up early, dresses, makes sure the coffee maker is going and there’s breakfast waiting for him. he’s sure tony will wake soon, needing pain medication, some comfort, so he grabs the pills out of the cupboard, too. but looking at them makes his stomach roll. makes his head hurt, his heart pound. but before he can put two out, with a glass of water to be safe, the bottle is crushed in his hand. the little white pieces of comfort scatter, and bucky watches in horror. unfurls the metal fist to see white powder, crushed orange plastic, tony’s name on the paper.

his breathing speeds up, the night’s thoughts rushing back, and before he has time to think, grab a pen, try for sanity, he’s out the door. because he knows now.

tony had gotten rid of his metal parts. tony was whole again.

bucky never would be.

* * *

once he’s out in the open air, though, he freezes. he doesn’t want to disappear. doesn’t want to vanish without a trace, though he knows he can. but something tells him going and grabbing his go bag would worry people, and he doesn’t deserve worry. so he starts walking, then running, one foot in front of the other.

his phone starts to buzz. first texts, then calls. tony, steve, even sam all try to reach him. for a moment he wonders if he should turn around, if he should go back, apologize, say he’s fine. but doctor hall keeps telling him lying when he’s not okay doesn’t do any good, and to face them all would be a lie itself.

that he was good. fine. good enough, especially for tony.

as it gets later the calls come less and less. one or two after six, and then his phone is silent. he’s grateful for it. they’ve surely realized by now, what he’s doing, what he needs to do. get away. his feet hurt, he’s hungry, tired after no sleep the night before, but he keeps pushing, sprinting, going forward. he’s walked so far the buildings have start to spread out, get low, become sprawling suburbs. he pushes on.

the sun sets. it gets cold, and he pauses his sprint to zip up the jacket. walks some more. doesn’t even realize he’s stopped until he processes that he’s staring at a sign, the glow of neon almost hurting his eyes after he’s stared at his boots all day. doesn’t realize what about it keeps him from just pushing forward until the blue catches his eye.

arc reactor blue.

everything hits him at once. the pain, his hunger, his exhaustion, his _hurt_ , and he collapses into the wall of the diner the sign belongs to. he’s sliding, now, onto the ground, and everything is blurry. when he lands, his metal arm scrapes against concrete.

doesn’t hear tony’s voice until it’s right next to his ear, can’t get up until steve lifts him and helps him to the backseat.

* * *

“what the _hell_ was that?”

“tones…”

“no, steve, shut _up_ ,” tony snaps, and his voice is full of righteous anger, frustration, fear. bucky doesn’t process all of it exactly but knows that the force of it is directed at him. his chin tucks a little close to his chest. “i think i deserve an explanation as to why my boyfriend vanished without a trace this morning. what, some coffee and a plate of buttered toast and all would be fine?”

“tony,” steve tries again, but his voice is immediately drowned out since tony’s volume only goes up from there.

“we text, we call. no answer. we try all damn day, we tried to contact you all day, bucky, and what do you do? you ignore us! hell, give us something, why don’t you, so we don’t think someone’s kidnapped you, or hurt you, or fucking killed you! and where do we find you? fucking miles away, at a rundown diner, looking like you’ve been –”

“ _tony_!”

it’s the captain america voice, the one that booms without needing to overpower everyone else in the room. it’s enough to get tony’s attention at least, since he stops talking. bucky’s hands clench into fists, goes so still that he feels like he’s not even breathing.

“steve,” tony whispers after a few moments, the silence thick. “can you give us a minute?”

bucky can see steve’s own boots disappearing, hears them until they’re out of range, and then, and only then, is when he manages to look up enough to meet tony’s eyes.

“you shouldn’t have been driving,” he gets out, voice rough.

he feels like he’s back at the beginning, when steve found him. hair dirty, body grimy, voice unused, bones stiff. a mess. broken. beaten.

but tony seems to just get out a snort, even through his anger. he knows now. how lost bucky is. now it’s just waiting for the inevitable.

“really? you go missing and come back looking like you went to hell and back and _i’m_ what you’re worried about?”

bucky can only shrug, both shoulders lifting, and when they lower tony’s shaking his head at him, in disbelief. it’s enough for bucky to push his chin back down. he was trying to protect tony, didn’t he understand?

he doesn’t look up again until he feels a hand on his wrist, his metal one. it shocks him, that he would even dare after everything.

“buck? you wanna sit down?”

there’s a fierce shake of bucky’s head. no. he doesn’t need to sit to know what’s coming. what needs to happen.

tony’s voice doesn’t sound angry anymore, though. it sounds soft, low, soothing, and still so worried. his voice when dum-e got a virus. his voice when natasha came back with a broken leg. his voice when bucky had a nightmare in the same bed for the first time.

“okay,” he tries again, and bucky braces himself, tenses, can basically hear the words before they leave tony’s mouth. “do you mind… do you mind telling me what’s going on? and… what i can do to help you out?”

wait.

“wha-?” the word is barely formed, almost a half of what it should be, but tony seems to read the surprise to know what was trying to be communicated. his eyes scan tony’s, trying to find something forced in them, but there’s nothing.

“i want to help, buck,” tony whispers to him, and his other hand lifts so that he can have both hands outstretched, one on his metal hand, the other on his shoulder, rubbing the spot there. “i, i don’t know what’s going on, but something is. something’s… hurting you, and i want to know what. i want to help.” he smiles. gentle. “is that so hard to believe?”

“yes.” it’s immediate, and tony winces. bucky feels the color, whatever’s left, drain from his face. that hurts. that look tony’s giving him, like he’s been stabbed.

“it is?”

“no.” immediate backtracking, immediate regret. “not… like that.”

“like what, then? buck, please, did i do something to make you think that?”

each word hurts bucky more and more because it hurts tony. he can hear it, see it play across his face, each line. this was why he had to walk away, because tony was whole and bucky just pulled him apart. “no, it’s not you. it’s never you.”

“then… then, what?”

there’s a beat, two, bunch of moments where bucky tries to put together what he can. he needs to explain this perfectly, so tony can get it. so he can understand why he doesn’t work. why he’s so broken.

“you got your arc reactor out,” bucky whispers, and tony seems confused. raises a brow. but bucky forces himself to keep talking, even when he wants nothing more than to run off again.

“you – you got it out, and i missed it. couldn’t really sleep without it, i just… missed… missed the way i could look at it. look at the metal, and the blue, and.. listen to you explain how it worked all over again.” the words begin to trickle out of him, gentle, and he lets the momentum carry him, even as tony’s eyes stare at him, even though he can’t meet those beautiful brown eyes.

“i missed seeing it when i woke up some, when the nights got bad. it was a good blue, y’know, and helped me remember you were there, and i missed touching the cold metal on the outside, but. it was gone. and you… you deserve that, you deserve it not there, anymore.” it’s a stream now, a stream of consciousness that tangles and jumbles but still gets pulled out. he pushes through it, keeps it going. “but… most of all i missed how it made us the same. not – not exactly the same, because you’re – you’re so fucking _good_ , tones, but how we both had something. something.”

“something,” tony repeats, and bucky nods, doesn’t like how it sounds in tony’s mouth because it sounds dumb. stupid. dumb because it is. tony wasn’t like bucky. never was.

“something.” he forces himself to keep the stream going, even though now he feels the threat of tears in his eyes once again. third time, two days, but he had to keep going. “it was something.”

“but your something was good. good and pure. it kept you alive, lit things up, it fucking powers the whole place, don’t it? and mine… my something just hurts. hurts me, hurts you. hurts everything it touches. and now you’re something’s gone, and you’re just… you’re free.”

it’s rapid now, everything coming out of him, and the dam breaks before he can stop it, his eyes squeeze close, but the tears keep coming.

“you deserve someone who’s got a good something, or nothing that’s holding them back. you deserve someone who’s as whole as you are now, someone who can keep up, who doesn’t have a stupid fucking hydra arm stuck to his side. you deserve someone who can hold you with two fucking human hands instead of a metal one, deserve good. i’m not good, i’m not whole, and.. and i – i never will be.”

and after all that, he’s met with silence. a beat. two.

when he opens his eyes, tony is staring. mouth agape, just a little. his eyes are wide, beautiful brown eyes, and bucky realizes that they’re shiny, his cheeks are wet. tony was… was _crying_.

“i’m sorry –” he whispers, but before he can continue there’s a couple of fingers over his lips.

“you’re… you’re the best man i know, buck.” tony’s voice is shaky, is breaking, and bucky watches. watches as his fingers pull away, as his lips replace them.

when they break, neither of them are breathing well. bucky’s is coming in shaky inhales, tony’s too hard, too rough, but they’re clinging to each other. bucky’s got his fingers wrapped up in tony’s shirt, and tony’s nails are digging into bucky’s hips.

“when i see you, i see something,” tony whispers, when he can. their foreheads are touching now, and at one point they’ve hit the ground. “i see something beautiful. a man who came back from the depths of hell alive, and clinging to life, and fighting, i see something good, a man who made me coffee and toast with jelly on it this morning, who’s done that every day for the past year because he knows i don’t really eat on my own. bucky, i just see you.”

“tones, i don’t –”

tony kisses him, surely to shut him up again, and bucky can’t argue, kisses him right back, lets his fingerprints skirt along the other’s ribs. when tony’s voice is heard again it feels like it echoes, travels warm through bucky’s veins, down his spine. .

“i might seem whole, bucky barnes, but that’s only because i’ve got you. _you_ make me whole. not the reactor, not the surgery, nothing but you. you show me how i can get up each morning. and when i woke up, and you were gone –”

“i’m so sorry, tony, god, i’m so fucking sorry,” bucky gets out, before he can stop himself, and tony’s eyes go wide. “i know i shouldn’t have, but you just… it got too much, the thoughts in my head –”

“no, no, buck, no. you’ve got nothing to apologize for, i promise. you’ve… you’ve been feeling this way, and that’s nothing to be sorry for.” that shuts bucky up as good as a kiss, and tony’s looks at him head on, takes bucky’s demons by the horns and toss them aside. fucking obliterates them, for the moment. “just. next time. please don’t run. come to me, talk to me, and we can… we can talk about this, because… i need you, buck. fuck, i love you.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“tones,” bucky gets out in a breath, and he pushes forward again. “i love you, too. i love you so much.”

and for the moment, for once, bucky feels a little less broken.

* * *

bucky’s home. he’s at his home.

he’s leaving the bathroom, his hair still damp from his shower, and as he’s toweling it off he realizes there’s a gentle blue glow in the dark room. it’s centered above the bed, where they sleep, and when bucky tilts his head up there’s a rush of… something.

“tones?” he asks, and the man peeks up over the covers, grinning at him. bucky can see it, because of the light. it’s soft enough that it’s not blinding, but bright enough that it feels like… like…

“i had jarv help me set this up,” tony tells him, looking proud of himself, sitting up against the headboard. “you like it?”

“what… what is it?”

“it’s kind of a mock… well. mock arc reactor. the blue shines while i’m in the room, especially at night, and – well, just watch.” tony lifts himself out of the bed, starts walking towards bucky, and the light follows. tracks over the ceiling, follows tony until it settles above where he is now, which is now directly in front of bucky, staring up at him, giddy.

“you made this for me,” bucky breathes, and in a rush, he’s lifting tony by his waist because it’s not a question. the other’s legs wrap around his hips, and he holds the other there, pulls him down for a kiss.

“for me, too,” tony retorts, but his smile is so big it’s hard to argue. “i mean, i had the thing for years, hard for that kind of thing to just be gone. but. yeah. for you. mainly. also me.”

“tony?”

“yeah?”

“i love you.”

the words are soft, so soft tony almost doesn’t hear them. but he knows them. loves those words. loves him.

“i love you, too, buck.”


End file.
